


Bitchface No.5

by bookworm1805



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Jealousy, M/M, Schmoop, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, jealous!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:22:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm1805/pseuds/bookworm1805
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a new kid in school and Sam is being a bitch, but Dean doesn't see how the two things are related.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitchface No.5

 

There’s a new kid at Livingston High and his name is Castiel. Dean only notices him because Alistair was giving him shit in the hallway, and instead of backing down and letting the creep rip him a new one like anyone else would, Castiel got back in his face and punched him in the nose. Honest to god, punched fucking  _Alistair,_ scariest guy at school – exempting Dean himself – in the nose.

Everyone in the hallway froze, didn’t quite know how to process. The only other kid to even attempt putting Alistair in his place was, once again, yours truly, and well, that’s a whole mess of another story. Point is, no one saw it coming, certainly not from this nerdy looking kid with bed hair and a trenchcoat five sizes too big.

So yeah, Dean noticed the kid. Maybe even talked to him a little since he showed up in Dean’s chem class and they wound up partners since he didn’t know better than to sit next to Dean. The guy was pretty alright, spunky in a way not a lot of kids at this school were.

Still, Dean doesn’t think any of this warrants Sam’s bitchface when they meet at his car after school–it’s no.5 which roughly translates as  _you’ve done something wrong and you know what it is and I’m gonna ride you about it, not in the fun way_. As soon as he recognizes it he approaches his brother with caution, unlocking the Impala and tossing his bag in the back. “Heya Sam,” he says lightly.

“Dean,” Sam responds tightly. He yanks open his door and throws himself inside before Dean can even get his open. He blinks.

“Oookay, thank you Alex I’ll take My PMS-ing Brother for $300,” he mutters to himself. He gets in the car and turns over the engine, easing out of the parking lot in silence in an attempt to let Sam cool down. “So, how was your day honey?” he asks with a smirk as they pull onto the main road.

If Dean was hoping things would just fall into place like they normally do, he’d be wrong. “Fine,” is all Sam says.

“Yeah?” he prompts. “How’d that debate in your history class go? You’ve been prepping for like a month.” Sam doesn’t answer. “It was today, right?” Sam nods. Dean waits. “Alright, well. Good talk.”

The rest of the drive home is silent.

*

Sam is still giving him the silent treatment when they get home, doesn’t say a word to Dean when they set foot in the house, just stomps up to his bedroom and slams the door like it personally offended him. Mom and Dad are cooking dinner – to be exact Mom is cooking and Dad is hovering around trying to eat everything before it’s ready – and they both look at each other, then at Dean with identical expectant expressions.

“I got no clue,” he says with his hands held up. “Wasn’t me.” Except he has a feeling it  _was_  him, he just doesn’t quite know how yet.

He goes upstairs in lieu of anything else to do, keeping his door open in case someone, ahem, wants to stop in and drop a clue, but no one comes. He can hear Sam blasting his emo music from two doors down,  _Good Charlotte,_  which is how Dean knows they have a category 5 situation, because seriously  _Good fucking Charlotte_? Sam is not a twelve year old girl, even if he sure does act like one.

Half an hour passes while he listens to AC/DC on his turntable, and he tries to pace not-too-obviously across his room. He starts to smell lasagna cooking so he knows dinner is pretty much ready, so he knocks on Sam’s door to tell him to come downstairs.

Sam opens the door about an inch, which is just stupid because Dean practically  _lives_  in that room too, so it’s obvious Sam isn’t trying to hide anything as much as he’s just trying to be a bitch. “Dinner’s almost ready, come help set the table?” he says in what he hopes is a friendly tone.

What he gets is an eyeroll. “Yeah sure, I’ll be right down.” Sam stands there, clearly waiting for Dean to leave. But hey, two can play that game.

“It’s fine, I’ll wait for you.” Dean smiles.

He knows Sam wants to gripe and bitch about it, can see the frown on his face and the unhappy crease of his forehead. What he doesn’t know is  _why_. “Seriously Sam, bad day? What’s up, man?”

But his concern gets him nowhere, just a sigh and a sad head-shake like Sam is far beyond his years. Which,  _he’s so not_.

God, you see what Dean has to deal with here?

“Fine, okay, whatever,” Dean grumbles. “Just be down in five, Sam.” He turns to leave but doesn’t hear the door shut behind him until he’s halfway down the stairs, like maybe Sam was watching him as he left.

*

Dinner is, in a word, fucking awkward.

Okay, so that was two.

But honestly, Dean wishes he even had some idea of what the hell the problem here is. Sam is terse, silent, only nodding when asked yes or no questions and passing food with more hostility than Dean thought was capable in such a gesture. He doesn’t know what to do, so he tries to fill in the weird quiet with stuff from his day. He mentions that it was sloppy-Joe day at lunch, which makes his Mom grin wryly and his Dad chuckle, asks if it’s alright for Jo to come around this weekend with Ellen for dinner which his parents receive with enthusiasm, hell, he even mentions the new kid Castiel just to have something to say.

“Castiel, huh? What an interesting name,” his mom says as she sips her drink. “Does he live in the neighborhood?”

Dean shrugs. They didn’t get that far in the conversation. “Dunno. Any Novaks move in around here? Think that’s his last name,” he says in answer to his dad’s questioning eyebrow.

“Oh yeah,” John says. “I think I met his father this morning, down on Parks Street during my morning walk. He and his boys were unloading a moving van, I asked if I could help.”

“His brother, actually,” Dean corrects as he idly scrapes some lasagna off his plate. “He moved here with his brothers, didn’t mention any parents.” He shovels the food in his mouth and shrugs again.

Sam is growing increasingly irritated in the seat across from him. The motion of his knee bouncing has become erratic, Dean can tell because the table is subtly shaking and the silverware is starting to  _clank_  and it’s all so fucking random, he just stares at Sam in confusion. He isn’t used to being this thrown when it comes to his brother. They read each other better than anyone else, but Dean is coming up blank here.

He’s shaken from his daze when his mom resumes the conversation. “Well, it’s nice that you talked to the new boy, Dean,” she says in that motherly ways of hers, and Dean holds back a snort. He neglected to mention how Cas punched Alistair in the face, but given Dean’s personal history with the dick that’s not really dinner-table conversation. “You should have him over for dinner sometime.”

Dean nods because, why not? He doesn’t have that many friends at Livingston, just Jo and Sam, most people are too afraid to talk to him and he likes it that way, but Cas seems like he could keep up with Dean and then some. And he and Sammy would get along like a house on fire, would nerd-bond over differentials and covalent bonds and all that shit.

A loud  _scrape_  echoes through the kitchen and everyone turns to see Sam totally red-faced, half standing out of his chair with his plate in his hands. “I’m sorry, could I be excused?” he grits out, and the smiles drop from everyone’s faces. Mary nods blankly, and they all three watch in mute surprise as Sam clears off his plate, puts it in the sink, and sweeps out of the kitchen in ten seconds flat – a personal Winchester record.

The table is quiet for a few moments after that, until they’ve heard Sam’s door close upstairs. The tension still hangs in the air though, and Dean is wondering when this day went so wrong. His parents look at him but he waves them off before they can say anything. “Yeah yeah, I know,” he says. “I’ll talk to him. Can I also be excused?” They both assent and Dean sighs, pushing his chair in and then slowly cleaning off his plate.

He thinks he’s starting to get an idea why Sam’s bitching today, and he doesn’t like it.

Upstairs the whiny emo music is back tenfold, but he doesn’t bother knocking this time. He barges right in, takes one quick look around the room and sees Sam lying on his back on the bed, brooding and staring at the ceiling.

“Sam, my room,” he barks in his most authoritative big-brother voice.

Sam sits up at the intrusion and opens his mouth as if he’s about to argue.

“ _My room,”_  he orders. “ _Now.”_  The tone brooks for no argument, and Sam seems to get that by the way he leans over to turn off his music and actually shclumps off the bed. He follows Dean a few paces behind him, and when they get to Dean’s room he hangs out a little outside the doorway. “Inside,” Dean commands. “Close the door.”

Sam obeys.

Dean sits down on his bed, lets Sam stay on the other side of the room for now. “Now Sam,” he starts, “I’m really hoping this isn’t what I think it is, but are you…are you throwing a bitch-fit because you’re  _jealous_?”

Sam turns pink from the tips of his ears to the base of his throat, and Dean gets a little distracted staring at the collarbones peeking just above the cut of his shirt. He snaps his eyes back to his brother’s face and reads the truth in the way he can’t meet Dean’s eyes and the tension in every line of his body. “Wow,” Dean says slowly. “Seriously? Seriously.  _That’s_  what this is about?”

Now the pink is turning to red, and Dean recognizes the embarrassment mingling with humiliated anger in his face, and Dean may be many things but cruel isn’t one of them. He tones it down a notch. “Sammy,” he says more gently. “Is this about Cas?”

Sam snaps up to look at him, glaring harshly. “ _Cas?”_  he snarls. “Oh, so it’s  _Cas_  now? Thought it was  _Castiel_  down at the dinner table, or are you two getting so close so soon?”

And woah there, enough is enough.

Dean stands up. “Okay, this ends now, Sam. Cas, Castiel, it doesn’t matter. Do you really—I mean you really think I’d do that? You think I’d—” he cuts himself off, because now he just sounds hurt and yeah he is, but he doesn’t want Sam to see how much this is affecting him. How much this total  _lack of faith_  makes Dean feel like someone stomped on his puppy or broke all the windows of the Impala.

Sam’s face softens. “That isn’t what I meant,” he urges. “I just, I don’t know. I saw you two talking between classes and I’ve never seen you take to someone so quickly.” His voice is quieter now, a sad smile pulling at his lips. He’s not looking at Dean anymore, just staring at the carpet and scuffing his feet around. “I know nothing happened, I know you’re not like that, but I always knew one day someone would come along who could…whatever, I guess I saw that with you and Castiel today.”

He looks back up at Dean hesitantly, who’s thrown so off by everything that he’s still ten steps behind the words coming out of Sam's mouth. And he’s pretty sure his jaw is unhinged, gaping like a fish.

But Sam’s not finished yet. “I’m sorry I took it out on you like this,” he’s mumbling, looking at the carpet again. “It’s not your fault, and I-I’m happy you found someone like that for you. Even if nothing has happened yet,” he hurries to add, “I know it could, and just. I wouldn’t wanna get in the way. He'd be better for you. Yeah. That’s all.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes. Dean is taking the time to recooperate, assimilating in his head everything Sam has said and trying to make it fit. But trying to get it to make sense is like trying to shove together a jigsaw puzzle with all the wrong pieces. So Dean says the only thing he can.

“What. The.  _Fuck_.” He can feel himself building up to a truly terrible shout, starting deep in his bones. “What the  _fuck_ , Sam? No, seriously!  _What the actual fuck?”_   His baby brother’s eyes are wide with shock now, bordering on fear, and good, fucking  _good_ , the little shit deserves to be scared right now because Dean hasn’t been this pissed off in a damn long time.

He feels thunder gathering in his veins and he lets it out. “You, you think Castiel and I have a  _future?_  You think we’re gonna bounce off into the sunset on a silver moonbeam and pop babies out our ass and start singing about true love’s kiss? You think I’m gonna chase after the new guy because he’s fresh tail and got a backbone? You think I’m just gonna walk away from this, from  _you_ , from  _everything_  we are together because I’m just waiting for something better to come along? Well  _fuck you,_  Sam. You can go screw yourself and listen to emo pop music all you want because I can’t even fucking _look_  at you right now!”

He’s panting, red-faced and pissed off and he’s about to take a swing at something if he doesn’t cool down quick. The wall would probably break a few fingers, so he settles for kicking the nightstand and watching in satisfaction as everything clatters and falls over. He pretends his foot isn’t throbbing in pain, just clenches his fists together and stares at his brother. Sam is ghostly pale, silent, mouth open in a quiet expression of shock, and he looks so regretful and horrible in that moment Dean is tempted to gather him into his arms and hug away the hurt, but he can’t let go of this anger, not yet.

“Dean—” Sam starts to say, but Dean cuts him off.

“No Sam,  _you_  listen. I am not interested in Castiel Novak. Aside from the fact that I met him today, that you even thought I could be makes me feel," oh fuck, _feelings_ , you're turning into such a girl, Winchester, "—well it makes me feel like shit, Sam. Like you don’t trust me, like you don’t trust  _us_ , like I’m just your slut of a brother who’s gonna whore himself out to any pretty face. I’m not that guy anymore Sam,  _you know_ that, and  _you know why_.” Sam bites his lip because he does know, of course he fucking does, and his pretty blue-green eyes are starting to well up. Dean still doesn’t stop. “Because of  _you_. Because  _you_  gave me a reason to change,  _you_  gave me someone to care about, made me feel like something better than shit, and then it turns out you—you don’t have any fucking faith in me.” He takes a deep breath, meets Sam’s eyes, lays it all out on the line. “I’m not fucking Cas, I’m never gonna fuck Cas, because I don’t want to fuck anyone else, Sam. Just you. Only you.”

Sam seems to break down at these words, and he rushes at Dean. He buries his head in his big brother’s shirt, wraps his arms around Dean’s waist. Dean pretends he doesn’t feel tears leaking into the shoulder of his t-shirt, just folds his arms around Sam and cards his fingers through his hair. “C’mon Sammy,” he’s whispering. “You didn’t think I’d actually forget about you, did you?” Sam is shaking his head into Dean’s shoulder, hair tickling his neck.

“Not you, not you,” Sam's muttering violently. “It’s not that I don’t trust you Dean, it’s just that I n-never thought I’d be enough,” and Dean can hear the hitches in his speech and breathing where Sam is probably crying, but Sam’s trying so hard to control himself and the kid has had a bad enough day as it is, so Dean just shushes him and holds him a little tighter. “Never thought I’d be good enough for you, D,” Sammy whispers, “So afraid you’ll realize I’m not. I'm sorry, so sorry.”

Dean pulls him back abruptly to look him in the eye. “Hey,” he says sternly. “Enough of that. I don’t wanna hear those words out of your mouth ever again, do you understand me?” He’s using his big-brother voice again, and yeah while that might send some mixed signals using his brother-voice to talk about their non-platonic relationship, but they’ve already got enough wires crossed between the two of them that it hardly matters. Friend, brother, lover, it’s all the same to Dean and Sam.

 “You’re my baby boy, Sammy. No one else like you,” Dean says softly, looking into Sam’s eyes all the while so he can feel the truth of the words. He strokes his brother’s cheek, thumb rubbing at the dip and sweep of his cheekbone and slowly drawing him closer.  Once they’re breathing each other’s air and Sam’s breathing has turned erratic for reasons other than crying, Dean brings their mouths together in a kiss, sweet and soft. He lightly pulls on Sammy’s lips, nips them and licks over the tiny sores until Sam is keening into his mouth. He suckles at Sam’s bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth and scraping his teeth over it before releasing it with a wet pop. He wraps his arms around his little brother, supporting him, and maneuvering them where he wants them.

The back of Sam’s knees press against the bed, and they both know where this is going. “Got time for a quickie?” Dean asks into Sam’s mouth.

“Y-yeah,” Sam stutters, still arching into his big brother and pulsing his hips against Dean’s. Dean pushes him back onto the bed and climbs over him.

“Sure you don’t need to get back to that brooding you were doing earlier?” he says as he nips and teases his tongue along the column of Sam’s throat. Sam fidgets and makes a grumbling embarrassed noise. Dean chuckles. “Alright, alright, no more teasing. Let’s get this show on the road. Wanna bet I can make you come in six minutes or less?”

Sam is completely pliant underneath him, and they both know who’s gonna win this but still, his kid brother can’t resist a challenge. “You’re on.”

Dean grins wide. He was hoping he’d say that.

He reaches over to put a record back on, create a little background music so it’s slightly less likely their parents will hear them fucking from downstairs. He makes note of the time.

“Then let’s go, baby boy. C’mon, clothes off,” he says as he pulls off Sam’s shirt and his brother makes short work of his pants. “Aw, you’re wearing your spiderman boxers? My favorite,” Dean winks, and Sam blushes all the way down to his underwear line. “Seriously, take ‘em off, I’m hard enough to pound nails, you little bitch. You’re kinda hot when you’re moody.”

The tease has its desired effect and Sam’s hips stutter, the pink head of his cock peeking out as he slides his boxers down. His full length is revealed, shiny with precum, red and fat and  _long_  and fuck but Dean’s baby brother is  _hung_. He moans at it on sight and feels saliva gathering in his mouth - it’s a Pavlovian response because he loves sucking on that dick like a popsicle, loves feeling it pump in and out of his ass, but tonight he’s gonna show Sammy just how much Dean needs him by fucking him raw, and one of the upsides to fucking your brother is that you can have sex almost any time you want since you’re both always horny and always just two doors away. He’ll get that cock later, maybe tomorrow morning. Morning sex with Sam is always the best way to start the day.

“Think mom and dad will be distracted cleaning up?” Dean asks, just to tease. Fucking around without getting caught by their parents has become something of a game for them, and sometimes they deliberately push the limits of how far they can take it when John or Mary is only a few feet away. It’s gotten pretty bad. There have been hand jobs at the kitchen table, and once a  _blow job_ , though Dean had kept himself from actually blowing his load until he excused himself to the bathroom five excruciating minutes later.

Sam whines, both at the words and Dean’s hand which has just firmly grasped his dick. “They usually are,” he pants. “ _Dean_ ,” he says, pulling at Dean’s clothing, so Dean gets the message and gets naked. “C’mon you big jerk, are you gonna fuck me or not?”

He pulls off his clothes in a hurry, comes back to the bed and growls, pinning Sam’s arms above his head and hovering over him. “Shut up, bitch. You’re  _mine_ , and I will fuck you on  _my_  time, got it?”

It’s another game they play. Sam has always excelled at pushing people’s buttons, and he’s bossy which makes him a good top and a toppy bottom. When Dean tops, Sam likes to see how far he can push his big brother, how long it’ll take til he’s slammed against a wall and fucked so hard he can’t speak, let alone breathe.

Make no mistake, Sam Winchester is a kinky bastard.

So Dean gives him what he wants, and pushes him over onto his stomach. “I’m gonna take you like the little bitch you are, baby boy,” he grunts as he pushes a slicked up finger into his brother’s hole. Lube is never far in his room. “Just you, Sammy, my boy, my little brother.” Sam whimpers, squeezing his ass against Dean’s finger and thrusting up for more. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t even have  _words_  left to beg, and everyone down stairs,” two fingers now, and Sam is moaning steadily, “mom, dad, hell even Bones, will know what we did.” They’re never actually loud enough to be heard and they don’t want to be, but it’s possible they might both have a kink for almost getting caught by their family. Maybe.

Sam is shaking and mewling underneath him, begging for Dean to fuck him and Dean knows he can take it – god knows they fuck enough that they’re both usually pretty loose – so he slicks up and slams right in. “Ahhh, fuck, so good Sammy,” he sighs as he slowly starts sliding in and out. “Don’t even think about touching yourself,” he says, even though Sam knows better by now than to try.  “Just get off on my  _dick_ , baby boy, your big brother’s dick pumping into your sweet little ass.” They’re both getting off on the words, Dean doesn’t even care if he’s a sicko pervert who watches too much porn and fucks his little brother, it’s fucking  _hot_  and Sammy is tight as all fuck and so warm and soft and his skin is smooth under Dean’s fingers, and there is nothing else in the world like fucking Sam, nothing that even comes close. There could never be anyone else for Dean, how could Sam even  _think_  there is?

He speeds up and says Sam’s name, “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy” like a mantra and a prayer, over and over; it’s what Dean has called him since he could talk, a childhood nickname he refuses to give up despite how adult Sam pretends to be these days, and it makes everything all the more  _dirty as hell_  that he calls him Sammy when they fuck. Sometimes when Dean uses it in normal conversation Sam will even blush, like he’s remembering fucking Dean raw in his bed that morning until his big brother nearly broke his headboard and stifled out a cry of ”Sammy!”, and Dean will smirk because  _mission accomplished_.

Sam is writhing and weeping beneath him, nonsensical cries spilling from his mouth and Dean has mercy on him and moves a hand to his brother’s stomach to swirl a finger through the sticky precum gathered there. He barely brushes the drooling head of Sammy’s cock before his brother is stiffening, crying out Dean’s name and coming all over his stomach and Dean’s hand. Dean fists his cock a little, wringing it out of him. Sam’s ass clenches around his dick as he orgasms and  _fuck_  it’s so good, it’s  _so fucking good,_ and Dean keeps slamming into his sweet spot, punching it with every stroke so Sam will feel it for weeks. “That’s it baby boy,” he growls, “That’s a good little bitch, mmmm, you’re so wet, so needy, god I love you like this, such a good little bottom." He's still jacking Sam’s softening cock as the noises of the boy beneath him are growing increasingly anguished.

“D-dean,” he pleads, and Dean knows he’s _almost_ had enough.

“Shhh,” Dean coos into his ear, “it’s okay lil’ bro,” and Sam goes completely boneless underneath him. He gives Sam’s dick one last strong, slow tug and Sam sobs, then Dean lets himself go and fucks into Sam desperately, gripping his hips with both hands and pounding into him. There will be bruises where his fingers are, marks on Sam’s skin that say  _mine mine mine_ , and it’s good, it’s fucking amazing, the slick wet channel of his brother’s hole sucking at Dean when he slides in and clinging when he slides out, and he just watches the place where his cock thrusts in and out of his baby brother until he feels his orgasm building and it explodes out of him like a freight train. “Oh fuck so good Sammy, so good so good, fuck,  _Sammy,”_  he’s mumbling mindlessly, groaning as his hips rut out his orgasm.  Sam whimpers under him, hips canting up like he wants  _more_  of Dean’s seed, and Dean’s cock gives an extra twitch at the thought and he pulses out another shot of cum.

It’s quiet in the aftermath, Dean basking in his afterglow and Sam recovering underneath him. “Fuuuuck,” Dean hisses as he carefully slides out of his brother. He watches his cum leak out of Sam’s ass with satisfaction for a minute before rolling onto his side and scooping Sam into his arms. “You good, Sammy?” he asks, pushing sweaty hair out of his brother’s face. Sam’s eyes are watery still, but his face is warm and satisfied.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “I’m good.  _God_  I’m good. You good?” He squirms closer to Dean.

Dean chuckles. “I’m great, Sammy.” He kisses his brother’s forehead and noses into his sweat-damp hair. “Don’t ever doubt me again, ‘kay? It’s you, Sammy. Always has been, always will be.” They don’t usually say sappy things like this, haven’t actually said the words “I love you” to each other since they were a lot younger (and not fucking), but they know. At least, Dean thought they did. Sam’s fit of jealousy makes him think maybe he could give the kid a little more reassurance aside from the, you know, mind-blowing sex. Which is why he says what he does now,  _love you_  whispered into Sam’s hair so quietly he’s almost sure it was just in his head.

But Dean knows he said it out loud because Sam immediately jerks his head up to stare at Dean, and his eyes are suspiciously glossy once more. He doesn’t say anything, just kisses Dean fiercely on the mouth and then pulls away to snuggle closer to Dean and slip his arms around his torso, breathing something a lot like “ _me too_ ” into Dean’s neck.

Sam is warm, heart beating against Dean’s chest where he can feel it, and he hears his mom clanking pots and pans around in the kitchen. He rests their foreheads together and sighs as they melt against each other. Sam will need to get cleaned up, but Dean has little packets of moist towelettes stashed all over his room for cases such as this. Five more minutes, he thinks, and relaxes in Sammy’s arms. He glances at the clock and grins.

“Did it in four, bitch.”

 *

The morning starts out with Sam's mouth on his dick, and Dean blinks away the cobwebs of sleep with a grin. "Fuck yes," he grumbles. "Do we have time for me to ride you?"

They make time.

If they're a few minutes late coming downstairs for breakfast their parents either don't notice or are too happy Sam is actually smiling today to care. They actually look somewhat startled because the kid is practically beaming as he eats his eggs, and Dean is both flattered and amused by it all. He smirks into his pancakes and nudges his foot against Sam's under the table.

Dean is chipper for the rest of the day, because seriously, Sam's dick is magical and morning sex is _the best._ When he sees Castiel in chem, they work together on a lab and he invites him to lunch. “Seriously, you should meet my brother,” he says, “He’s a couple years younger than us but he’s smarter than half the guys in our grade.”

Castiel nods and accepts his invitation gratefully. “Thank you. I was not looking forward to the prospect of eating with my brother Gabriel for the second day in a row. He persisted in stealing my pudding cup and does not understand the concept of personal space.”

“Yeah he’s not the only one, buddy,” Dean remarks, eyeing the close space between his face and Castiel’s, but the guy doesn’t seem to get the message and just nods sagely like Dean has said something especially profound. Dean shakes his head and fights back a chuckle. As long as he doesn’t get any closer Dean figures there’s no harm done.

He has English between chemistry and lunch, so by the time he gets his food – a few beef quesadillas piled on top of each other because the cafeteria ladies love him – and gets to the shady patch of grass outside he and his friends have claimed for years, Castiel is already sitting there under their tree. He seems to be listening intently to Sam talk very animatedly about something while waving his arms around like a giant dork. Jo, Pam, and Ash complete the circle, chatting to each other and occasionally turning to listen to Sam.

Dean bites his lip to hold back a stupid grin and walks over. “Hey guys,” he greets as he plops down in his usual spot next to Sammy. “I see you all met Cas.” Everyone makes some acknowledgment. Jo smiles and says they’re in AP History together, partnering for a project. Pam winks at Castiel and calls him a cutie, which makes the poor kid blush and look like startled prey, and Ash just slurps his Capri Sun and throws up the devil's horns.

Sam is the most enthusiastic, and he turns to Dean with a wide smile. “Yeah, I was just telling Cas about the speech and debate team!” Sam is the captain, even ordered the team jackets. They’re almost as bad as the Mathletes ones, of which Sam is also a proud member.

“Well Cas here has no problems standing up for himself,” Dean says wryly as he thinks of the blood pouring from Alistair’s broken nose. Castiel ducks his head bashfully before gravely intoning that he “would greatly enjoy learning verbal defense in lieu of the physical”.

Sam laughs and pats Castiel’s shoulder and Dean just sits back and watches as they gab like two girlfriends who’ve known each other for years. He discreetly slips his hand over Sam’s where it rests on the grass and thumbs over his knuckles. His brother turns to him with a warm smile, flips his hand over and squeezes. They slide a little closer together, link their fingers and hide them between their bodies, and Dean bumps his shoulder against Sam's with a quiet _"bitch"_ and receives a nudge and a  _"jerk"_ in reply. Dean lets that stupid smile break out on his face now as he grips his brother's hand tighter and faces his friends, all his happiness in this one perfect moment shining through.

Yeah. Life is good.

 

**Author's Note:**

> not beta-ed, contains underage sex (unspecified age) SO YE BE WARNED. Sorry if there are typos, just let me know if you find one and I'll correct it. :)


End file.
